


A Kiss Without Love

by Tarshil



Category: Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge | The Wallflower - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarshil/pseuds/Tarshil
Summary: Now I'm freaking out over the kiss! Damn Sunako Nakahara! One shot. Kyohei/Sunako. Set immediately after episode eleven.





	

You know, this girl has therapeutic issues. One stupid crush gone wrong and she completely went around the bend! If I ever find that asshole that called her ugly, I'm tearing his fucking face off! Don't get me wrong, I'm not overprotective or anything – like Sunako even needs it – but this guy created one major pain in the ass.

Like earlier today. She finally remembered we kissed and completely snapped, wrapped herself in a black blanket like a safety cocoon against the wall, chanting like a maniac, "kissy, kissy kiss," and creeping the hell out of the other students in class. What is her damage? I sort of felt offended. And confused. She sends me these mixed signals.

Okay, she nosebleeds from anyone who is good looking but she has a particular interest in me. I'm sure of it. She tried to kill me! And while that is no indication that someone likes you, Sunako is a nut-job. She functions differently from other girls. I rather figured by now that I plague her thoughts more than anyone else does. That's why she wants to off me, but I know she's not even close to serious. If she is, it doesn't matter; I'll just pin her against the wall and she's putty.

She defends me all the time. She blushes when my face comes close to hers, but not with Takenaga, Ranmaru and Yuki. In fact, I've seen Ranmaru get in kissing distance to her and she either glares daggers at him or punches him in the face, completely unfazed even with a nosebleed. If I try that, she'll either become a statue or feint. And despite having no problem socking me one if I get out of line, she delivers on all my demands with just a little prodding. I know she likes cooking, but I just have to say I'm hungry and she's off to the kitchen to prepare me something – even though she forces me to eat veggies now and then.

Yet, the thought of kissing me grosses her out? I'm pissed off.

Not that I like her, okay? I just wish she wouldn't make a huge deal out of it. Maybe it's a good thing I'm wrong about her liking me, since that would be complicated. We live together; we don't need our domestic bliss to get awkward.

Things have finally calmed down and everyone's gone to sleep after another excellent meal by Sunako. I'm on my bed running through the day's events. I'm still irked that I had to press her lips to a freaking skull to make her understand that our kiss meant nothing. In fact I have an urge to get out of bed, not giving a damn what hour it is, and burst into her room to give her a piece of my mind.

Thing is…what piece of my mind am I supposed to give her when I don't even know what it is? Why am I so unsettled? Yeah, I was annoyed that she kept repressing her memory of the kiss. Yeah, I'm angry that she made a huge deal out of it and I had to explain things to her. The kiss meant nothing, though. It had been an accident. It hadn't even been that great of a kiss. We both went all out on ping-pong and our faces just crashed together, our teeth scraping one another's lips. It kind of hurt. There hadn't been any tongue, but our lips opened and we were both panting from over exertion and our breath was heavy and hot against our cheeks and I could feel her lips tremble from the shock, and, yeah, I felt something jitter in my stomach. The whole thing took me by surprise!

I suddenly found myself blushing in the dark and a little turned on under the covers. I'm a teenager! I can get horny watching a hotdog slide into a bun for heaven's sake!

Food. I love to eat and she loves to cook…UGH! Stop thinking!

Now I'm freaking out over the kiss! Damn Sunako Nakahara!

Heaving a great, agonized sigh, I fling the covers off me and get up. I'm not getting any sleep any time soon. In just a white t-shirt and boxer shorts, I trudge downstairs to the kitchen for a midnight snack. When I get to the door that leads there, however, I notice light coming from the slit on the bottom. I push the door open and find myself facing Sunako in her PJs. She looks at me in surprise, gives me a once over, and her eyes kind of bulge at the sight of me in my underwear.

Here we go. But it's mild this time. She throws her head up, covers her gushing nose and turns away. Like I knew she was gonna be up!

Her back turned to me and a little irritation flecking her voice, she asks me, "Why aren't you asleep?"

Well…I shrug and throw any old excuse, "Numbers running through my head. Stupid test."

"Yeah…," she mutters and I notice what she's doing over the counter. A sandwich.

My stomach moans in approval. Hell yeah, just what I need. I tell her, "Make me one!" And she looks over her shoulder at me with a roll of her eyes, finishes the one she had already started and hands it over to me.

That's the thing about her. She could laugh at flesh-eating monsters, spend loads of money on banned horror flicks, yell at everyone to get out of her room, own a Nazi uniform and a chainsaw, and maybe she's a little desensitized. But when you get close to her, she's thoughtlessly kind and generous – to the point of being somewhat sweet in her own weird way. She built me a kotatsu from scratch because I had spent all her money on crabs. She's the nicest, strongest and bravest girl I know.

And speaking about awkwardness settling into our domestic bliss, here it rears its ugly head. She sits across from me on the kitchen table and we eat our sandwiches tongue-tied and ill at ease. Is she still thinking about it or did I manage to dispel any confusion from her mind?

I'm thinking about it. Can't stop thinking about it.

I glance up from my sandwich to her lips as they settle around the two loafs of bread and takes a bite. Honestly, she has cute lips, not too thick or too thin, heart shaped and pink when she eats well, spends some time outside…, and plucks her mustache at Ranmaru's insistence. Not like she has much of one. I honestly don't mind it at all. Ranmaru's the one with a need to constantly surround himself with attractive women. I just like one that can cook.

Not that I like her like that! I just like that she cooks amazing. And cleans up after me. And can keep up with me competitively. And doesn't give a damn that I'm good-looking and that I make her nose bleed, she'll tear me a new one if she has to. She doesn't treat me like I'm special. And when she gives me things, it's not that she's catering to me, she's just…like that. She's a giver.

"Why are you looking at me like that," she asks and I jump. I realize I've been staring at her this whole time. Oops.

"Uh, nothing. I'm still hungry."

"Yeah, you've barely touched your sandwich."

I look down and sure enough, most of the thing is still there, in my hand and waiting to get in my belly. I scarf it down in three seconds. "There! Now make me another one!"

Instead of her usual response of expressing how annoying I am and then doing what I told her to do, she looks at me like she doesn't get something but doesn't say anything. She gets up and makes two more sandwiches. This time she brings over two glasses of apple juice to help the food go down.

We eat again in uncomfortable silence – which I ignore. Food is food – but she glances at me now and then and sometimes I catch her and sometimes she catches me. She has pretty eyes. Her lashes are naturally long. There's nothing wrong with her nose either; it's perfectly straight and proportionate to her face. Her jaw line is nicely shaped. Really, there's nothing ugly about her, she's just unkempt, like her eyebrows are unruly and she has circles under her eyes because she runs from the sun like its hellfire.

Scratch that, if it was hellfire, she'd probably run towards it. Probably try to roast marshmallows in it.

Like I said before, I don't give a shit if she grooms herself or not. She's a good person and a great cook, mustache and all.

When we're done, she grabs the plates and puts them in the dishwasher, then she turns around and she won't look at me. She fidgets and her mouth opens and closes as if she's trying to say something. Her antics are making me nervous and I'm about to snap at her when she finally mumbles rapidly, "Umm, well this has been…nice. Gottago," and runs off!

Well. That was weird. More than usual, at any rate. Shaking my head and thinking I'll never understand what goes on in that scattered brain of hers, I get up, turn the lights off the kitchen and go back to bed.

It doesn't take long for me to doze off and as I do, I'm stricken with a bout of clarity – you know that state between wakefulness and sleep when something in some memory suddenly makes perfect sense? And I realize that she might still be thinking about our kiss. I had told her it was a kiss without love.

Which is true…It's not like we meant to kiss. Still, I had to use an anatomy skull from the science lab to make a point.

My lips wouldn't have made it quite so clearly.


End file.
